Wednesday 29 January 2014

Trials and Tribulations of transport

It’s probably quite apparent that I love travelling; that feeling of butterflies in your stomach when you arrive at a new destination with wide eyes and a beaming smile ready to sink your teeth into a new time zone, culture or even city, for me personally the feeling is incomparable, 

                Though I must admit, sometimes the struggle of getting to the destination can be somewhat of a hassle with surprises at every turn; for example just the other week I was taking the boat, bus then train to Bangkok from Koh Phangan, firstly the boat resembled something from ‘The Perfect Storm’ with people puking at every wave, my bus then decided to break down in the middle of a highway leaving us sitting in the dirt for 2 hours, and finally my train which left on time ended up arriving in Bangkok 4 hours late…..typical ‘Thai Time’ where nothing really runs to its precise time.      That journey though was something of a dream compared to past events.

Back in 2009 when I first began my travels I recall being on a bus from Vientiane in Laos bound for Hanoi in Vietnam, this epic journey ended up taking us 36 hours on a rickety bus along dirt roads through the beautiful mountainous scenery of Laos.

About 20 hours in and after some questionable stops in urine drenched ‘toilets’ (if they could be called that) we pulled over at a small stall in front of a building, our driver exited the bus without saying a word to the 30/40 or so travellers seated in his vehicle, about 45 minutes past when everyone started getting impatient.

                We’d previously watched our driver walk into the building behind the stall and not return, following this we saw numerous other cars coming and going, their middle aged male drivers going inside and coming out after a short while; though not only did we see these gentlemen we saw a large number of girls exiting for a brief period having a smoke and walking back in……this wasn’t any normal building behind a stall, this was a brothel in the middle of nowhere where long distance drivers stopped to ‘relieve the stress’ of long haul journeys, so there we all sat for about 1 and a half hours while Mr Bus Driver got himself laid!

Though of course it’s not always the driver who prolongs the journey, I’ve also seen all out brawls take place in the walkway of a bus due to someone sitting in the incorrect seat, this occasion the gentleman who instigated the brawl was swiftly ejected from the bus face first into the dirt bloodied and bruised.    

                And of course the most damning of all is when you completely fuck up your own journey due to just the smallest of stupid decisions.

Early 2010 I was rounding off my 4 months in S.E Asia and travelling from Koh Phangan to Singapore, to then catch a flight to the land down under, it was an long journey consisting of a boat to the mainland, a bus to the border of Malaysia, then changing buses to travel down to Kuala Lumpur and then one last stretch to my final destination of Singapore where I’d rest my head for the night…..sounds simple enough right?...Wrong.

                Everything started to go wrong once I’d got off the boat, firstly our minibus broke down in the city of ‘Hat Yai’ a few hours from the Malaysian border, a back-up bus then turned up 3 hours later to take us across to Malaysia, after dropping myself and other frustrated backpackers off at the border we were then stranded in no man’s land without a hope in hell of making it down to KL, a few us put our heads together and pulled together some cash to pay ANOTHER minibus driver to take us to KL…..it was at this point I made the wrong decision.

                After the journey from hell to the border which should only take around 5 hours, which ended up taking about 12 I could safely say I had had enough and wanted to knock myself out for the rest of the journey to KL, so I necked a couple of Valium to doze off (Valium being an anti-anxiety drug and overall relaxant….fantastic stuff!)

                I thought to myself that 2 10mg pills just wouldn’t cut the mustard so I decided to dose myself up with another 3 just to ensure I’d be thoroughly in the land of nod.

I came round from a long blissful sleep to the sound of the driver talking through the speakers announcing;

“45 MINUTE, KUALA LUMPUR, 45 MINUTE”

My plan had worked! I had successfully knocked myself out for that leg of the journey, without waking once, I smiled an accomplished smile when I slowly came round to the realisation that I was sitting in something damp……if you are reading this thinking I had pissed myself, then you my friend would be wrong.

                The Valium apparently had worked better than I’d planned, not only was my mind in a complete state relaxation but also every muscle in my body, ultimately making me eject the entirety of my bowels into my £30 tailor made yoga pants from Hoi An in Vietnam.

Coming round to the realisation that I had completely shit myself at some point on the journey didn’t fill me with happiness I’m not going to lie, but the worse realisation was the fact I still had to sit there for 45 minutes in a puddle of my own faeces……the one and only word which came to mind was, shit!

So there I sat wallowing in my own self-pity and excrement for the rest of the journey to KL, once we’d stopped I swiftly wrapped a spare t-shirt around my waist to hide my shame and pelted for the toilet at the bus station where I ditched my clothes and cleaned myself up with wet wipes, now half ready for the next bus to Singapore.

I suppose the moral of the story is that; whilst travelling, shit happens……oh and maybe also don’t take 50mg of Valium at once.

 

Sunday 19 January 2014

Homeless in Bangkok

The sweat beads from my nose creating a dot-to- dot pattern on the crotch of my baggy fisherman pants, I disregard the fact that it’s starting to look like I’ve pissed myself purely due to exhaustion, inebriation and the ongoing madness around me.

It’s high season in Bangkok, Thailand and the tourists are out in their droves crowding the streets in a wondrous blur of backpackers, from newly enlightened souls fresh from India to fluorescent steroid munching ‘lads on tour’ ready for a night on Bangkok town.
I pull myself back to reality by pulling some ice from my beer glass and wiping my brow with it, as I do this I receive a heavy hand on my shoulder;

“Ah la la, this feurking girl, she has feurking hurt me for the last time, she comes to find me over new years and she tells me she loves me and I fall in love with her also, but feurk……now I cannot see her” the gentleman sitting next to me exclaims whilst sobbing.
The man’s name is ‘Eric’ and he is one of an estimated 400 homeless ‘farang’ (foreigner) living in Bangkok at the moment. Eric is a Frenchman who first started teaching in Thailand, nowadays he’s a member of the lonely hearts club 7 nights a week, he has been sleeping rough in Bangkok for almost 6 months.

I smile and pat his shoulder as he continues to bawl his eyes out, opposite me a man tries to get my attention, he mutters something in an inaudible blur along the lines of;

“Lewwkee, Luooeewwwkee! Dontcha’ fockin’ listen to ‘im, do yer’ ba ne’ chance have a cigarette?”

“Yeah course mate”

“….and 32 baht?”

This gentleman was named ‘Darrock’….or ‘Derrick’….or maybe ‘Darrow’, to be honest even after knowing him nearly a year I still can never understand his drunken mumblings let alone when he introduces himself.              The cause for the exact amount of ‘32Baht’ (which is asked regularly by the whole gang) is for them to go and by the delicious drink known as ‘SiamSato’, this sherry/rice wine comes in a large bottle with enough content to strip paint rom the walls at the cheap price of around 60p ($1).
Darrock is a proud Scotsman with a serious alcohol problem, he says he has been on the streets now for about 2 years though I’ve also heard him say it’s been a week…which I can even say isn’t true. He’ll occasionally wander back to the table with a cut eye, occasional broken nose or covered in his own blood, and when asked what happened, most the time the reply will be;

“Ohhh som’ fockin’ jumped op English Cont fockin battered me for nay fockin’ reason’”
                I know, I know, it all sounds like utter madness and to be honest it is, but the vast majority of my time in Bangkok Is spent with homeless foreigners who for one reason or another have lost themselves in Bangkok, why I spend most my time with them you ask?.....Purely for the fact it’s just soo much fucking fun!

The drinking gets intense don’t get me wrong and you do eventually come to the conclusion that madness is catching, but if you want to meet some of the most fuckin interesting people around, go down to ‘Gecko Bar’ on Soi Rambuttri in Bangkok and take a seat, you won’t forget it.

I came across beautiful smelly people around a year ago when I ran into some trouble with a lovely young lady, let’s say I was ‘wrongfully discharged’ from her apartment, she threw 200baht at me (4 pounds) knowing full well I had no finances and told me to “pack my fucking bag and give her the key”, so gracefully I did, catching a 200baht taxi from Sukhumvit to Khaosan Rd I walked the streets for the night trying to pull some money together from backpackers so I could get a room and some food, but to no prevail.
I was…well to put it bluntly, fucked. I had 5 days until I had a flight to where I had a job waiting, and not a penny till then.     Though by some twist of fate I ran into a friend who gave me 500 baht for a few nights rent and some food, it wouldn’t cover the 5 days but I at least had a bed to sleep on and a couple of meals in my stomach.

In true alcoholic style I also bought myself a beer with my meal to take the edge off of being screwed into near enough homelessness.
As I sat drinking I was explaining my situation to a few people, some of these people are the two I have already discussed, Eric, Darrock and a few of the others proceeded to pour me drinks from their glasses which they had somehow scrounged from elsewhere whilst Eric calmly explained to me in the timeless fashion though with a beautiful French accent; “Eh, feurk it, shit ‘appens”

Each and every time I see these guys and how hard it can actually get whilst travelling they still sit with smiles (though sometimes clouded by ‘love lost’ tears), I will remember that yes shit happens, but when you’re down the only way is up.


 

 

 

Thursday 20 June 2013

From fisherman pants to rhinestones - My summer as Elvis Presley

Nothing in the world in my eyes quite compares to the pure feeling of insignificance and solitude, it’s a completely unrivalled sentiment, through my travels I’ve driven through the Nevada desert and not seen a car for hours with hundreds of miles of emptiness around me, I’ve sat atop the highest point of a valley in Himachal Pradesh in India and shouted “Hello” and heard nothing but my own voice echoing back, I’ve found the loneliest beaches in South East Asia after walking for miles just to sit there and enjoy pure isolation.
Saying that, there’s no sense of isolation that quite compares to standing on stage lifting a rhinestone cape to a tacky backing track of Elvis Presley’s ‘American Trilogy’ while an audience that consists of a middle aged German divorcee and his son on a week holiday in Spain sit there and pretend to show interest.
In the summer of 2012, that is exactly where i found myself.



My funds of the previous winter were slowly dwindling after trekking round India and losing my mind once again on Koh Phangan, I found myself having to bite the bullet and fly back to the grey skies of London, though only 10 days after my return I received a call from my childhood friend named Leon. Leon and I go for prolonged periods without speaking, though when we are back together it's like nothing has changed and we are still the best of friends.  
His call went something like this;
                                 "Luke, i know you're back and I'm sure you don't want to be. So there's a job in Spain performing at hotels for the summer, I don't really want to go alone and they are looking for 2 people" 

I jumped at the opportunity naturally, as I was not ready to be back home in dreary England, so off we went we to sunny Spain, not having a clue what was in for us.
                 Though when were greeted by fluorescent orange t-shirts and cheesy smiles we had a fair idea the hell that was ahead.

I was cast in the 'Elvis and Grease' shows, the aptly named 'Team Grelvis', from then on I had 6 nights a week of slicked hair and leather costumes.
The first month was soul destroying, being still low there audiences were minimal at best, as i previously mentioned i recall one evening during the 'Vegas' scene where i had to sing an epic Elvis number on stage with my back turned to the audience and lift a rhinestone cape amidst stage smoke and strobe lighting...only when I turned around the sheer sense of depression hit me, the the German divorcee in the audience was filming on his iPhone...though he wasn't filming us...he was filming his 3 year old son playing with a soft toy in front of the stage.

On top of this utter humiliation i had a boss which was comparable members of Hitler's SS, a lanky streak of Dutch piss named 'Marnix', he waltzed around as if he was a God amoungst men, and the worst thing was that he was a die hard Elvis fanatic!
I had to do everything perfectly, from the the way i walked, to the way i moved my fucking fingertips, every night I saw his balding wanker face in the audience i knew i was in for lecture after the show....the fact of the matter was simple and i told him repeatedly;
"I AM A 22 YEAR OLD GUY OF MIDDLE BUILD FROM LONDON, TRYING TO PLAY A 45 YEAR OLD OVERWEIGHT AMERICAN FROM THE SOUTH"




  






Monday 13 May 2013

Monday 6 May 2013

Trekking, Elephants & Opium, Chiang Mai '09


After a heavy night drinking in Chiang Mai I opened my eyes slowly whilst the sunlight beamed through the window in my bathroom, the cold tiled floor gave me some comfort from the heat in my room, what had meant to be a relaxed evening obviously decided to take a different direction.
The left side of my face was laying in a perfect circle of cold puke where I obviously didn’t quite make the extra 2 metres to the toilet though it seemed I’d managed to take off the upper part of my clothes as I saw my t-shirt laying in the door way, staggering around to find my phone to stop the head pounding alarm I looked at the time at it was about ten to 7, I could tell it was going to be a hard days trekking ahead.

I bodged a cleaning job of my bathroom floor and quickly showered before heading to the meeting, I couldn’t remember a thing about the night before and the only person who would have any recollection couldn’t speak a word of English.
I walked out my room, to see a Spanish guy named 'Joel' also walking out of his accompanied by a Thai girl, he grinned and said “Good fucking night man! You fucking drunk!” he laughed and started walking the girl towards the exit. It seems the only thing Joel could tell me, was what I already knew.
The meeting hadn’t started yet, but everyone was there ready and waiting, the 4 English backpackers smiled at me as I walked in and said “You had a good night then!”, apparently everyone had seen me at some point.

The meeting commenced while I sat and sweated out what felt like a bottle of whiskey and we left for the beginning of the trek. We drove about an hour outside the city to a small quarry where a river was meeting its end from the mountains, the two guides we had were named ‘Mr Po’ and ‘King King’, two young Thai guys who were raised in the mountains, they were both of Karen descent but decided to move down to Chiang Mai to earn money and save for their families.
We started trekking at around 9am, the sun was blistering hot and together with the humidity I felt like I was going to pass out, my hangover kept hitting me in epic waves of dizziness and I’d already drank half of my water supply for the day!




We trekked for a good four hours when it came to lunch, here we stopped in a small opening in the jungle where a river ran through. It was like a small piece of paradise amongst a thick tangle of trees and plants. Erosion had created a sort of natural Jacuzzi in the middle of the flow in the river, it was a perfect circle where the water ran from half a metre above like an infinity pool into the circular space. We all sat in here for an hour and ate our cold rice whilst getting to know each other. By this time my hangover had near enough gone and one of the others explained they had seen me and Joel going into a nightclub the night before in Chiang Mai at about 1am, slowly my night was getting pieced back together.

We trekked all afternoon through the jungle, occasionally we’d come to a clearing and stop for a while, as far as my eyes could see were endless rice fields of vibrant green, like on the train it was an overpowering glow, the water which lays beneath the plants reflects the sunlight which creates a shimmer across the fields, a plainly awesome view which you could sit and look at for hours on end and not get bored of.
The days trekking came to an end, we reached our destination for the first evening which consisted of two large wooden cabins and a separate small wooden cupboard which was the toilet. Around the plot ran chickens, pigs. dogs and cats which all seemed in harmony with each other, the setting was owned by Mr Po’s aunt and uncle, they were rice farmers and had lived on the mountain their whole life, with them lived their son who must’ve been around twelve years old and one of their fathers who sat in the same chair for the entirety of my stay and just watched and smiled, also for the evening we were joined by a friend of Mr Po’s, I never got to know his name, he couldn’t speak a word of English but obviously very much enjoyed listening to our conversations and would always laugh when we did, he like the old man stayed in one position all night, laid across a long pillow as if he were modelling in a catalogue.

The place was serene, with only the noise of the animals playing we all sat and ate dinner around a fire and spoke about the days trekking. By this time the 4 English backpackers and myself had naturally got to know each other pretty well, one of the couples ‘Rob and Gemma’ who I’m still close to today didn’t live to far from me in the UK and I can genuinely say are some of the loveliest people I’ve ever come across, the other two who accompanied them were Kayleigh and Chris. .

After a few hours drinking around the fire we all sat inside the main cabin where the family slept, smoking cigarettes and drinking whiskey I offered Mr Po a smoke, he turned down the offer saying
“I no smoke thank you, I smoke only special”.
Now the word ‘special’ is an intriguing word, especially when you’re up in the mountains in Thailand. My first thought was of course Marijuana, and a joint would’ve gone down a treat at this point, so I enquired;
“You only smoke marijuana then Mr Po?”
“No no, no smoke marijuana, only special”
He was pretty stuck in his ways about not saying what he smokes, but with it not being weed i had a pretty good idea and was interested of course.
“Maybe we smoke later, when people go sleep” he said bringing a finger to his lips.
Mr Po was always softly spoken, I found his voice very calming, he looked somewhat younger than he was, with almost a bowl cut hair style he could’ve been mistaken for a teenager when he was actually nearer the age of thirty.

People began to dwindle down at around midnight, slowly the group got smaller as the days trekking had taken its toll, together with the whiskey I was feeling the same. We sat and played guitar with the young boy of the family, he had self taught himself guitar for five months, purely by ear the he had taught himself ‘Wonderwall’ by ‘Oasis’ amongst a few other songs, pretty incredible really, for a young boy who’s near enough cut off from the western world, just goes to show how reliant we are nowadays on technology and just how simple life can and should be.
When it came to just a few of us left Mr Po looked to Mr Catalogue model and muttered something in Thai, this is the only time I saw the man move all night, he stood up and went outside;
“Ok we smoke now, if you want join, you can”.
Mr Po walked into the corner of the room and pulled a metre long piece of bamboo whilst Mr Catalogue re-entered and reassumed his position on the pillow.

The cabin was being lit merely by two candles which flickered shadows around the room, Rob, a Dutch guy named ‘Ilya’ and myself were the last ones remaining along with Mr Po, Mr Catalogue and King Kong, by this time the old man had fallen asleep in his chair.
“You smoke Opium before?”
I hadn’t ever come across Opium before but was always intrigued by it, I’ll say now that my two main rules when it comes to drugs is that I will never inject anything due to it being purely fucked up in my mind that someone needs to inject to get high that quick and I will never touch crack cocaine just because I’ve seen what crack has done to people and their families and the crack heads I know just aren’t nice people….this is maybe just my warped morals but I stand by them.



Opium is where heroin derives from, it’s the substance which grows in the poppy plant, these poppies grow in abundance up in the mountains of northern Thailand and through Laos and is a major money maker for many of the locals transporting and selling it throughout The Golden Triangle.
I sat and watched as Mr Catalogue opened up a small transparent square similar to Clingfilm which contained a small black circle about two centimetres in diameter, he used the wooden end of a match to take a small piece and pressed it into a small hole at the end of the bamboo pipe.
Mr Catalogue laid down on his side into his pillow and poised his lips round the pipe while Po lit the pipe for him, he drew the smoke in slowly until he’d finished the hit and laid back flat holding the smoke in his lungs, exhaling I could smell the sweet smoke fill the air.
Mr Po followed suit, laying down again he took a fresh hit from the pipe and laid back holding in the smoke for as long as he could.

Mr Po looked to me and said “You wann’ try?” I obliged, how could I say no to free Opium whilst up in the mountains of Chiang Mai, as they say ‘Right place, Right time’ and I couldn’t think of a better setting than this.
Po informed me that It was important to lie down when smoking Opium, so I assumed my position and placed my lips round the pipe, breathing in, the smoke filled my lungs.
Opium was completely different to what I had expected, firstly the taste was sweet, the best thing I could compare it to is liquorice but at the same time not at all!
I held in the hit for as long as possible for my body to absorb it, laying flat on my back I instantly started to feel the effects; the sensation was beautiful, as if I had lost all weight in my body and all thoughts in my mind were put aside, all I could really focus on were the flickering silhouettes on the ceiling and walls around me.
After a couple more hits from the pipe I felt light as a feather and completely at ease, complete relaxation overtook my body to the point I felt almost in a dream state but completely conscious at the same time to all the goings on around me, until I fell asleep I laid there watching shadows smiling and listening to the three locals talking.

Waking up the next morning on a wooden floor wasn’t the best way to start a days trekking but I still had a smile on my face, perhaps due to the fact I was still pretty high. I opened the door of the cabin bracing myself for glorious sunshine pouring through the jungle to find the heavens had opened.
It was the end of September in Thailand, therefore I was still catching the end of the monsoon season, though in a sense it is a spectacular time to see the country.

When the rain hits it’s as if someone has turned on the tap full blast, one minute you could be sitting in scorching sunshine then the next the sky turns to greyscale and the rain will fall in an exceptional fashion. Together with the humidity the rain is bearable, unlike England where each droplet feels as if a needle is piercing your skin!
I personally quite enjoy the random downpours in S.E Asia, it’s quite a thing of beauty to see the entire country stop in an instant and all appreciate the benefits of the wet season, of course with the good comes the bad, such as the deadly floods the country has seen in the past.

Trekking through the jungle in the mountains during a torrential downpour though isn’t the easiest feat to undertake and by lunchtime we were all caked in mud, but thinking back I wouldn’t have changed the experience one bit.
The rain changed the whole scenery in every sense, the noise of the rain hitting the trees was hypnotising, it echoed from all around and together with animals and insects it felt like a rain forest symphony.

The second night we slept in a place similar to the first, though this time we were camped near a river which surged down to a magnificent waterfall which was in full flow after all the rain. The evening echoed the night before, a communal meal together enjoying a dry evening after a days rain, rounding off the evening with smoking a few more pipes of “special”.



The next morning three quarters of the group had left due to only doing a two night excursion, which only left myself, Joel and a Dutchman named Greg, we started the day by grabbing our bars of soap and heading down to the waterfall for a morning shower. The river was still extremely powerful from all the rain, but we braced the cold water and stood there whilst the river’s flow poured over us, there was something very liberating about this experience, and the freshest I ever felt any morning in all my travels.
Our final days Trekking took us to a small village atop a mountain, where a small group of Karen women made tapestries from hand made looms, they taught me the basics whilst finding it extremely funny to see a male taking part in the activity, throughout they kept calling me ‘Katoi’, obviously thinking I didn’t know what the term meant! That night the last few of us had our own individual bungalows and watched the sunset over the everlasting rice fields of Chiang Mai in a superb deep orange glow, complemented with a fresh bag of bush weed purchased by the Dutchman off of a local for all of 4 quid, it came to the point we were so stoned we couldn’t even finish the giant bag of buds so we gave it to a local who was overjoyed…..who wouldn’t be!

Awaking the next morning in my bungalow I was absolutely covered in mosquito bites! I’m usually one of the lucky ones who doesn’t get bitten too much, but this night was different, every inch of me had been munched on by the little bastards, though I could only blame myself firstly for leaving my repellent in the hostel and secondly being too fucking baked to put up my mosquito net!
Coming down the mountain was a lot easier than the way up, a gentle hill all the way down which brought us to the Elephant camp.
Elephant safaris are a big business in Thailand, tourists jump on the opportunity to ride an Elephant and I was one of them. Though I was dubious about it, I’m not one to partake in cruelty to animals, to be honest there’s nothing I hate more than Zoos and shit like that, but before I booked the excursion I’d looked into it and everyone I spoke to assured me that Chiang Mai was the place!

Arriving there I was a tad confused, Elephants were no where to be seen! All I could see was a large wooden platform 4 metres off the ground and a vast green area which backed onto the opening to the jungle, I know there’s a lot of cons in Thailand but invisible fucking Elephants would’ve taken the biscuit! Though in no time at all a rustling came from the jungle and slowly large grey trunks began to appear between the trees.
For myself I don’t think any animals compares to the Elephant, the sheer beauty and majesty of a creature that size just blows my mind. The Elephants which appeared were nothing compared to the size of an African Elephant but stood a good 3 metres in height and 4 metres long, they were healthy looking and all happily followed a Thai guy that walked in front of them without even being given any commands or stick beatings which I was expecting!

Each of us climbed the wooden platform and were introduced to our individual guide and Elephant, I was allocated “Banyan the naughty Elephant” my guide laughed;
“Why is he naughty?”
“He no listen, never listen”
My guide named himself ‘Bill’, he looked how ‘Mogli’ from the ‘jungle book’ would do if he’d aged forty years and during that time had smoked fifty cigarettes, drank a few litres of whiskey with a side of LSD a day, frankly the guy was a fucking loony toon, uttering things in inaudible broken English then bursting out in fits of hysterical laughter every few minutes, saying that, I loved the guy he had me in pieces the whole time purely because of his lunacy.
So here’s me climbing on the back of a schizophrenic Elephant for a two hour ride through the jungle with an unstable alcoholic Elephant trainer..…your standard day.
As we set off all the others trundled towards the jungle, whereas Banyan began to walk in the complete opposite direction towards the giant pile of bananas by the entrance to the camp, this was going to be a long ride.



After a ten minute banana interval Banyan decided to listen to ‘Bill’, we sauntered into the jungle along a dirt trail for the next two hours, never catching up with the others the whole time.
The safari was a great experience, Bill allowed me to sit on the back on Banyan’s neck and steer us through the jungle, to do this it’s a simple action of tapping your foot on either side of the elephant’s head depending which way you wanted to go and shouting “Bai” when you want them to stop.
During the safari Bill constantly sang a Thai song which I ended up learning and still repeat to this day, phonetically it’s pronounced;
“No Gcoyen, Chang Le Bow,
Chang, Chang, Chang”
This is an old Thai song, similar to a nursery rhyme, I come across it on regular occasions in Thailand and always join in much to their surprise that I know it, it loosely translates as ‘The Elephant has very big tusks, Elephant, Elephant, Elephant’ (“Chang” being Elephant, which any beer lover will know as the national beer of Thailand ‘Chang Beer’)

Though we ended up taking a bit of a detour and not sticking to the path as Banyan was more interested in anything around which was edible, we did finally make it back to the camp.
To get back to the hostel the last of us took a bamboo raft down the river which we helped construct, by literarly tying together about ten pieces of thick bamboo we made a small raft which supported the weight of 4 of us and another piece of bamboo to steer us down the river.
When you think rafting down a river of course the first thing that comes to mind is white water and epic rapids, I as well was expecting a bit of excitement on the river but it was a lot more placid than I’d expected. We sat there and drank whiskey whilst snaking down a long brown river through the jungle, beams of light broke through the canopy illuminating the water beneath us showing schools of fish either side of the raft. We all took turns steering down the river, myself ending up getting us caught on a bed of rocks for about fifteen minutes while other rafts occasionally passed in fits of laughter.

Sunday 28 April 2013

Bangkok Bender, the first of many - Sept '09

                                
I walked down with a Scottish guy who I’d met in my dorm room, he was in his mid twenties, fresh off of the plane like myself, if I recall correctly his name was ‘Glen’. He was like a deer caught in the headlights, petrified of everything going on around him!
By the time we got to Khaosan Rd the sweat was pouring off of him then running down to his clenched fists, he was a nervous wreck! When it came to me suggesting starting off the evening with some fried insects, I thought the guy was going to collapse. After crunching my way through a handful of larvae and a crispy cockroach Glen had reached his limit, he said he was tired and was going back to the hostel, unphased I continued down Khaosan, stopping for buckets of whiskey and red bull with random strangers, fighting my jet lag the worst way possible. At about 11 o’clock I settled at the end of Khaosan in a bar called ‘Gulliver’s’ which ended up becoming something of a tradition, purely because of the Farang (foreigner) holiday makers sexual exploits taking place around the dingy sticky floored bar.

Sitting there my first night I got talking to a middle aged guy called Brett, a business man who bought clothing in bulk in Thailand and sold back in the UK for around a 100% profit!
Chatting away, all of a sudden an absurdly drunk Irishman on a path of destruction walked over and slurred an introduction, he goes on to point out a Thai girl on the dance floor to myself and Brett then meandered back off to the dance floor and started licking every inch of her face. At this point I double glanced at the Irishman and noticed the young Thai girl he was with had an exceedingly strong jaw line, then I noticed the Adams apple on her throat which petruded further than her chin and finally (don’t ask me why) the 5 o’clock shadow.
I knew all about lady boys (‘Katoi’ in Thai) but I didn’t at this juncture realise how blind some people are to their sometimes blatant masculinity! The Irishman then reappeared and started to explain;

“I’m gunna take that home and smash the fockin’ shoite outa her”

I casually watched him wander back over to the Katoi and slowly grind down her body, running his mouth over her skin, thinking maybe he was in some kind of overly erotic soft porno, I turned to Brett and said;
“We can’t let the poor guy fuckin’ do this can we?”
“We shouldn’t….but for a few more seconds for our pure enjoyment, we can!”

After admittedly another couple of minutes of hysterical laughter I tapped the Irish gent on the shoulder and whispered to him;

“Take a second look mate”
“I know!….She’s fockin’ beautiful ‘int she”
“No mate! Jaw line, JAW LINE!”

Maybe it took him a while to decipher what I’d said, on the other hand maybe the realisation of what he’d been doing was painfully sinking in, but it took him a good five seconds of silence before he screamed “JESUS FOCKIN’ CHRIST!”, pushing the Katoi away he looked to me.
At this point I was thinking that this guy is gunna go for me, just out of pure frustration and humiliation, but instead of a fist he embraced me in a gigantic sweaty Irish bear hug shouting into my ear;

“T’ank you soo fockin’ much mate! I was about to take her home n fock her! Seriously I don’t know how to repay yer!”

The sweaty giant bought me a beer and went onto explain he’s a devout Catholic….a shining example, I’m sure you’ll agree.

The following day I awoke sweating whisky and decided to go to the markets in China Town, this I where I encountered a young Thai guy by the name of ‘Jai’ and began my first serious Bangkok Bender!
My main aim in the market was to buy a camera, having lost my brand new one ON THE FUCKING PLANE from London to Bangkok! Don’t ask me how I managed that.

I wandered around for a good forty five minutes and saw nothing but fabrics, clothing and shoes, so I figured I was in the wrong market to buy a camera. The next decision I made was both one of the best and worst decisions of my travels but still I have no regrets. After asking a few locals where to buy a camera and failing miserably I walked past a young Thai guy wearing a leather jacket with a scar on one cheek, after hesitating I turned and asked;
“Where can I buy camera?” at the same time miming a camera with my hands, of course thinking at this point Thai people couldn’t understand too much English, but he spoke pretty much perfect English.
He introduced himself as ‘Jai’ which wasn’t spelt the same as my brother’s name but pronounced the same…so how could I not trust this guy!?

Jai was in his mid twenties, though he looked like he’d lived more than forty years, he wore always his leather jacket with tattered jeans and drove a different motorbike each day I encountered him. The scar on his face made him look intimidating at a glance but his mannerisms and front on a social level were overly polite and welcoming, all in all he was the perfect con man.

Jai informed me that his friend had cheap cameras “Tuk Tuk Mak Mak” (Very very cheap), I knew what was going on, I’d heard of all the scams, but then he said;
“it’s ok, I’ll take you, you can come on motorbike”
The ‘Lonely Planet’ voice in my head was screaming “NO NO, SCAM SCAM”, but I had nothing better to do that day and on top of that i hate the Lonely Planet guides with  passion, so I jumped on and began which ended up being a 20 hour death-bike tour around Bangkok.

First of all the problem at hand was resolved, we rode through back streets around Bangkok until we arrived at a pirate looking fellows street stall which had various obviously stolen goods ready to be purchased, so I bought myself a digital camera for all of 200 Baht (about 4 quid), of course Jai would be getting some of this for playing his part in the trade, this is the kind of business a large amount Bangkok con men thrive on, 

We continued to ride around, stopping in bars for whiskey shots whilst Jai caught up with what I deemed were friends of his or ‘business partners’, but at this point I hadn’t paid a penny for any drinks whatsoever, and i was already fairly battered drunk.
                                       

After the sun goes down in Bangkok the place truly comes alive, even more so than the day. If you see the phrase ‘Sin City’ either as a positive or a negative, that’s what Bangkok is by night and you can’t help but love it!
Sitting on the back of the motorbike zooming through the streets of Bangkok, pissed as a fart, no motorbike helmet, I just couldn’t help but smile, even if I could’ve died at any moment. In South East Asia you tend to forget the risks and just go with the moment.
                              
“You want see real Bangkok?” Jai shouted over the sound of beeping horns and the wind rushing by,
“You want see Ping Pong show?”
“Yeah of course, but I’m not paying too much money”.
Ping Pong shows in Bangkok are one gigantic scam, they reel in the tourists with abnormal sexual stage acts and a ’small entrance fee’, but once you’re in, you ain’t leaving before you’ve paid out your arse!
I’ve heard ridiculous stories from friends who have ended up paying around a hundred pound bar tab for about 6 drinks, where the average price for a beer in Thailand is about one or two pounds.
But Jai assured me this one was legitimate saying “No farang, no farang, only Thai person”, in my drunken state that was all the reassurance I needed.

We pulled up in a dark alley way after driving through the armpit of Bangkok where there was a wooden door, a small man stood by the door welcoming punters, Jai spoke to him and explained to me, “300 Baht, get in and free drink”, fuck it I thought, so I gave the midget my money and watched him give one hundred of it to Jai…Bangkok business at it’s very best.
“You coming too Jai?”
“No no, I see too many time”

As I walked in all eyes locked on me, I felt like a fucking leper, there must’ve been only fifteen or so people in the audience which consisted of older Thai business men, I suppose they weren’t used to a drunk nineteen year old English lad walking into their perverted watering hole.
The show had already started so I stumbled to a seat and sat down a couple of rows back from the stage, a waitress came over offered me a whiskey saying “100 Baht”……free drink my fucking arse, but I expected it, so I paid to avoid trouble.
The Ping Pong show ensued, your standard evening of women pulling a variety of objects from their vaginas; Ping Pong balls being bounced accurately into cups, razor blades tied to metres of ribbon, then a good ten metres of ribbon with bells attached, which is then wrapped around surrounding dance poles, still one end inside their vagina which ultimately creates some kind of ’pussy spider web dance’ complete with jingling! The list goes on, from blowing out candles to exploding balloons with darts fired from sheer vaginal power! Impressive stuff!

An hour of this madness and the final act came on, a woman walked on stage and laid in a sex swing, then the midget who greeted me at the door clambered onto the stage whilst frantically beating his cock to the point of erection, slowly cheesy porno music played through the speakers while I watched the couple on stage fuck completely expressionless for what felt like a life time! It got to a point where it got awkward so I slipped out the exit not to be rude….as stupid as that sounds.
I walked outside to see Jai standing by his motorbike smoking a cigarette beaming a smile and saying “you like yes? Very good, I know you like!”
I agreed, but to this day I’m still not entirely sure if it was an enjoyable experience and haven’t been to another Ping Pong show since, but never say never!

It was pretty late so I asked Jai to drop me back to my hostel, he obliged but he had one more stop to make.
“First we go karaoke, good place, many sexy girl, you like”. Jai assumed ‘I like’ everything, I eventually discovered this as that’s how he pretty much finished all his sentences.
After another death-bike ride through Bangkok, we pulled into another seedy joint in ANOTHER dark alley teeming with rats.
We walked in, at first glance I thought the bar was pretty busy, until my vision cleared up and I realised there was only the barman and a couple of bar girls. Jai lead me through the back door behind the bar, then through a labyrinth of walkways and alleys until we came to a small room, it must’ve been 2 x 3 metres, inside stood a solitary old school horse racing machine (arcade style) with 20 Thai men standing round it screaming at the top of their lungs at the pixelated screen, It was like Ascot races on acid!

Whiskey bottles lay on the floor, dogs ran round my feet while a single Thai man stood in the corner changing notes into 1 Baht coins. I felt like I was on an alien planet, never had I seen such excitement over something so simple.
Jai battled his way to the head of the machine and began throwing coin after coin into the slot and places bets on the virtual horses. Amidst the chaos of whiskey, stray dogs and endless sweaty Thai men with obvious gambling problems, I slowly came to terms with the fact that firstly I had no fucking idea where I was, secondly I was pissed out my mind and finally if anything were to happen to me right now, no one would ever be able to find me.

Thursday 25 April 2013

25 Fags - My average day as a teacher in China and an account of how i'm slowly killing myself

                                                                         25 Fags
Fag 1: I wake up at 6:30 pulling myself out of bed, turning my bathroom light on so the water in the heater starts to heat up and put the kettle on, while i wait i smoke a fag.

Fag 2: I make myself a cup of coffee, drinking it in bed i whack on some deep house to wake myself up and enjoy another fag with the coffe for that morning laxative effect....because the hell i'm taking a dump in the toilets at school where the children persist on talking to me while i relieve myself.

Fag 3: At 7:15 I leave my apartment, looking outside the weather looks grey whereas yesterday it was scorching and humid, on my way out i light a fag.

Fag 4: 5 minutes into my 20 minute ride to school the heavens open and I am now drenched so i continue cyclcing in the torrential rain with no umbrella or coat dodging between Chinese traffic, almost getting mowed down every few minutes, though reading Chinese restaurant signs is always amusing on the way.... until i find my usual slip road 5 minutes from my school, under the cover of a tree I relieve my stress by lighting another fag.
 
                                         

Fag 5: After jumping around like a clown and generarly making a tit of myself in front of 60 Chinese kids for 45 minutes i go outside the front gates away from being a 'bad influence' and light another fag.

                                               

Fag 6: 2 hours and 35 minutes have passed now, after doing the same lesson four times this morning which is currently on 'Rules' (No Running, No Shouting, No Eating, No Animals) after repeating the sames phrases a good few hundred times and again generarly acting a prat for the kids, i light another fag.

Fag 7: On my 20 minute cycle home it is still raining, though only drizzling now, but to avoid an unfortunate droplet of water hitting my cigarette i stop at the same spot from the morning and light a fag.

Fag 8: It stops raining half way through the journey, so i light a fag to smoke whilst cycling....poster boy for healthy living

Fags 9, 10, 11, 12 & 13: I get home to rest for an hour and a half, I cook the same thing i eat EVERY F**KING day as there really isn't much variety in food in China which will usually be fried rice/noodles with vegetables. Whilst smoking a large majority of my cigarettes.

Fag 14: Stopping at my usual spot i light another fag before the afternoon begins...another 3 lessons of NO SWIMMING, NO EATING, NO CAMPING etc etc.

Fag 15: At the end of my school day i have done 7 lessons and taught about 400 children, which even the Chinese teachers will not do! My voice has gone, I'm tired and overall a sweaty mess due to the humidity and how much I jump around and act a pr**k in class. As soon as I'm out the gates....I light a fag

Fag 16: Cycling with a fag and nearly dying in traffic.

Fags 17 & 18: I sit with Dan & Matt discussing how their days have been over a large beer and a few fags.

Fag 19: Upon realisation that I'm running out of fags, I smoke one whilst walking to the shop to buy another pack (which is about 65 pence) and a few beers for the evening).

Fags 20 - 25: The evening melts away with the local food market, or even a cheap rice place, most the time i cook fried rice....or fried noodles and most days i'll eat at least 9 dumplings due to me having a serious addiction, almost as bad as my smoking.

A Saturday night though!
Would entail a further 20 fags, probably collapsing outside a a nightclub due to downing 'gambay'-ing (downing) far too many beers, usually go through about 48 between 4 of us within a couple of hours, which leaves you in  a bit of a mess. Then an extremely late night trip to Mcdonalds....at least it ain't fucking rice!